


Not Entirely Clueless

by Fitzrove



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Endeavour Morse, British Military, Crossword Puzzles, Friendship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, albeit very briefly since it's just a backdrop for Morse liking a dude, and weirdly enough also some Morse introspection, but mostly - Freeform, set in 1961, very light tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzrove/pseuds/Fitzrove
Summary: In 1961, young Endeavour Morse is working for the Signal Corps at a military base in Colchester. He's his blue self, and isn't quite comfortable in his skin yet (when is he?), but he does realise he's managed to make a friend.And then he's filling in a cryptic crossword with said friend while doing radio watch late at night, just the two of them, and one thing leads to another.





	Not Entirely Clueless

Morse had spent three months at the Merville Barracks in Colchester as a fresh cipher clark. He was only now beginning to think that he'd managed to make an actual friend.

Lance Corporal Lusk could’ve easily been a couple years older than Morse, but when they’d talked about it, he’d actually found out that Lusk was two months his _ junior_. The sheer amazement on Morse’s face must’ve shown, because Lusk had laughed at him and said that he got it often. After all, he’d been with the Army for quite some time already, and therefore didn’t have to deal with the side-eyed looks and quips about fresh meat arriving straight from college pastures.

It wasn’t as bad when they kept to themselves, when it was just the signals men and their officers, but Morse still wasn’t comfortable with how men from the other regiments seemed to shut their brains off the moment they stepped in the garrison. Many were probably decent men outside the rigid atmosphere that came about when serving the Crown, but even if a certain harshness was required to get by in Colchester, it could easily go overboard. Especially when new recruits were pitted against people who’d just managed to prove themselves and got the chance to finally be the top dog. It could get vicious, and Morse was happy not to have to spend much time with airmen and the like, even if it felt a bit alienating sometimes.

Lusk was nice to him. It wasn’t like Morse could exactly be very _ comfortable _at any point in time, since he was much too worried and could think back on all his shortcomings much too well, but it certainly didn’t add to his discomfort to see a familiar face every once in a while. The man even came to sit with him at meals, always asking if it was alright before joining him, and gradually, Morse even got comfortable enough with the rest of his Signals mates to occasionally join them when Lusk had reserved him a seat. Lusk smiled a lot when Morse was around, often made sure nobody was bothering him, and liked to drop in for a talk whenever they had the time.

Morse liked to think he’d managed to make an actual friend, his first proper one in Colchester, even though a lot of it was simply because Lusk was friendly with _ everyone_. But he did always clear up some time in-between their daily tasks just to talk to Morse, and it couldn’t be a coincidence. Who knew that having someone actually _ like _being around him for once would make such a difference?

Everything was well and good, even if the problems they faced were sometimes brain-wrenching and the hours spent on them long, and Morse had thought things would stay that way, uneventful and occasionally difficult, but not altogether unpleasant. However, things were different one night.

“Are you sure you don’t want a dram, Morse?” Lusk asked, when they were staying up late one night in the radio room, the air almost oppressive in how chill and quiet it was. Just the two of them, working on a crossword puzzle of all things. It wasn’t even particularly difficult - one of Lusk’s mates, currently on leave up north, had taken it upon himself to set them one every week, to “keep them on their toes”. Needless to say, it didn’t come anywhere near Crispa’s - hell, Morse was pretty sure he could’ve made up a more complicated one himself.

“It’s very good”, Lusk said, when Morse didn’t answer. Morse lifted his eyes from the next crossword clue and tilted his head. Lusk made a point of lifting the glass to his lips, playfully toasting at Morse before taking a long sip. Morse watched Lusk’s throat move as he swallowed, still holding the pen, hand frozen against the desk.

“No, thank you”, Morse said. Even if he _ did _suddenly decide to take up drinking someday, he probably wouldn’t start off with scotch whiskey. The smell alone was awfully strong.

“You don’t drink at all, do you?” Lusk asked. “Never seen you do it, come to think of it.”

“No”, Morse said. Then, maybe because he felt like the night and the sheer unfamiliarity everywhere around him might’ve felt a little bit less overwhelming if he did so, he kept going when Lusk didn’t come up with an answer to that.

“My mother was a Quaker”, Morse said. “They don’t… well, indulge in all that many things, really. And I guess it stuck.”

Lusk looked thoughtful for a moment, but thankfully, didn’t ask him anything further about his mother. Morse wouldn’t have wanted to think of an answer, and lying didn’t seem like an option anymore. Instead, Lusk just took another drink.

“Hold on to that”, he said. “If you managed years in college without having to soak up your brain, it should be easy enough later, too.”

Morse shrugged. Lusk leaned a bit closer, about to say something, but Morse lifted a hand to have Lusk let him speak first.

“Most people wouldn’t call getting kicked out _ managing _ ”, Morse said, not able to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice. “Have you got any idea what _ ‘open-ended merger, seeking princely company away from the estuary’ _is?”

“I’m not sure”, Lusk said. “Tom does tend to put his containers and such at the beginning of the clue. So I’m guessing _ ‘open-ended’ _ could be _ ajar_. And it’s going at the end of the word.”

Morse blinked, stared at the page in front of him for one more second, and then let out a groan.

“That was quick”, Lusk said. Morse drew in a deep breath, struggling not to roll his eyes as he wrote the answer down.

“Radar, because of the seeking”, Morse said. “Clumsy as it is, he put the Raj at the front. And the estuary we’re supposed to get away from is _ delta_. God. But he didn’t let us know the _ j _should be replaced. As I said, very clumsy.”

“But you figured it out anyway”, Lusk said, smiling at him. Morse answered with a small, reticent one of his own, and that made Lusk put his hand on his shoulder and gently pat him there, as if to convince him that he was being genuine. On a rational level, Morse was a bit offended at having to be reassured like that, like he wasn’t capable of discerning what people meant, but deep down, he was pretty happy about it. Just for clarity’s sake.

“That’s the thing I like about you, Morse”, Lusk said, face a bit flushed from the scotch he’d had. He let go of Morse’s shoulder, only to grab his hand instead, and Morse didn’t even have time to properly register it before Lusk had pulled it away again. His palm had been warm, fingers a bit wider than Morse’s own, knuckles dry and rough. Morse simply stared at him for a moment, before Lusk cleared his throat.

“You’re such a bright lad”, Lusk said, not looking him straight in the eyes. “Wonderful to work with, honestly. I’m happy that you’re here.”

He reached for his glass, eyes on Morse again, as if he could hide behind it and stay there until the storm ran over. Morse pursed his lips for an uneasy second, not sure what to say or do, and when Lusk lowered his glass again and leaned closer to say something else, Morse stopped him once more.

“Bugger it”, Morse said under his breath, and, ignoring the scalding burn spreading over his ears and cheeks, kissed Lusk.

It had been too long since he’d kissed anyone, and Morse was quickly out of breath. He was still too desperate to stop, so even though it was a very bad kiss, it remained a kiss nonetheless. His lips were on Lusk’s, and he did his best to mouth along his skin, to keep him close at all costs, to just revel in the feeling of having someone close enough to be properly gentle with. He was breathing all too heavily through his nose, and after a moment of trying to steer Morse with his hands at the back of his neck, Lusk gently pulled back. There was a concerned expression on his pale face.

“Morse, mate. You don’t owe me anything. I didn’t realise you had never -”

“No, I have”, Morse admitted sheepishly. Lusk quirked a brow. “I’m just - god. I’m so bad at this.”

“I’ll fix it for you, if you let me”, Lusk said, leaning forward with his hand on Morse’s cheek, stroking his chin with his thumb, deep brown eyes reflecting the uncertain want that Morse knew was visible in his own, too. “Will you?”

Lusk was very handsome - sharp jaw, wide nose, neat, close-cut golden brown hair and all. Morse’s only regret was that he would’ve terribly liked to have something to pull on, but even as it was, he could probably pet it. He wanted to.

“Yes”, Morse said, and then there were warm hands on the back of his neck again.

The kiss was deeper, this time, and Morse was actually surprised at how quickly it progressed to that point. At one moment, Lusk was just pulling him close, but at the next, there was a hot tongue on his lips, tracing along their inner edges before finally slipping in, just barely, enough to make Morse beet-red by the time they pulled apart.

“You lied”, Lusk said. “You’re not bad at this at all.”

“Only when I’m nervous”, Morse mumbled. Lusk ran a hand down the side of his neck, stopping to rest it on Morse’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be”, Lusk said. “I’ve been trying to make it so you wouldn’t be, alright? Or at least a little _ less _nervous, if that’s all I can do. Nobody wants you to work yourself to death when you’re barely out of college.”

Morse actually laughed at that - an almost pitiful sound, but he was genuinely sort of touched. Lusk cared, at least a little bit, at least for a little while, and that was more than Morse had dared to expect after he’d left Oxford.

“Thanks, Lusk”, Morse said. It was the least he could do. Lusk shook his head.

“Eóin, if you will”, Lusk said. “I know you’ve got some sort of problem with your first name, but if you use mine, I think we’re even.”

Morse pursed his lips, but nodded. He really didn’t like to think about the fact that rumours spread quickly at the garrison, sometimes even faster than they did between colleges. Maybe he really shouldn’t have snapped at the private who looked like a schoolboy when he’d asked him for his first name the fourth time.

“Fair enough”, Morse said. “Eóin.”

“Impressive pronunciation”, Eóin said, rubbing slow circles into Morse’s shoulder. “Must be the language studies.”

“Maybe”, Morse said, and because he didn’t particularly want to think about words or Oxford, he kissed Eóin again.

It was late, and it was very likely that nobody was around, save for the night guards all the way across the field. They would be in deep, deep trouble if they were interrupted, and Morse knew that Eóin knew that. He must’ve, if he’d managed to get by without anyone starting up rumours for so long already.

“Morse”, Eóin said. “Can I close the door?”

Morse knew that in reality, he was asking something else entirely. He nodded anyway, trying not to stare _ too _deeply as Eóin got up and closed and locked it with a click. In that moment, Morse was very happy for the lock, even though it was sometimes used for frustratingly time-consuming practical jokes directed at their superiors that he would’ve rather gone without witnessing.

When Eóin got back, he dragged his chair nearer to Morse’s, so close that he could easily put his hands on Morse’s thighs.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, slowly stroking up, then back down again, until the feather-light touch wasn’t a pressure on his thighs anymore, but instead just fingers curling around his knees. The way Eóin was _ looking _ at him, lips kissed red, collar askew (when had _ that _happened?) and eyes insistent, made Morse lose his breath once again.

“Depends on what you’re talking about”, Morse choked out. Eóin leaned in to press a kiss right next to Morse’s ear.

“Just hands, Morse”, Eóin said. “Nothing too frightening. You could sit on my thigh if you want to.”

He was being completely serious, offering as if it was something people just _ did _ without worrying about it day and night for months on end. Morse’s lips trembled a bit.

“_Jesus_”, he whispered, and Eóin looked at him, eyes full of concern.

“If it’s too much, we can just carry on kissing”, Eóin said. “I’m pretty sure you like that.”

Morse’s cheeks were burning again, and he shook his head. Eóin looked even more worried for a moment, but his expression changed when Morse grabbed one of his hands to bring it to his waist.

“No, I… please”, Morse said. “Could I sit on…”

He didn’t manage to finish the sentence, innocent as it was, still, but Eóin didn’t push him.

“Of course, love”, Eóin said, dragging his chair back to make room. Morse looked at him for a second, Eóin’s strong arms and surprisingly wide shoulders for being as young as he was, before finally pushing himself up and then straddling Eóin’s thigh.

Eóin grabbed him by the waist, holding on a bit tighter than he had before, and it was very good, as Morse was afraid he would’ve fallen off otherwise. He didn’t want to worry, not when he got the chance to kiss the man again, to have Eóin’s hands wander down his lower back and even to his arse, holding on for a moment before proceeding on their way, going up his sides and eventually slipping underneath his shirt, the touch a bit cold but pleasurable enough that Morse didn’t find it in himself to care.

His shirt was hanging open at some point, and Eóin’s had come off entirely. Morse was too lost in holding and kissing and breathing and stroking to realise it at first, but he did jolt out of the haze when there was a scratch at his hip.

Another followed soon after, and it had Morse lighting up like a match. He even let out a grunt, hips bucking against Eóin’s thigh, only to realise what he was doing and try to clamp his hand over his mouth. Eóin gently stopped him.

“You’re beautiful”, Eóin said, voice hushed and breath heavy as he held on to Morse's wrist. “It’s perfectly sensible not to be too loud, but I do love what you’re doing.”

He brought Morse's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss on the back of his hand, and when he pulled Morse close for another embrace, Morse could very much not handle it anymore. Eóin was hardening beneath him, there was no doubt of it, and Morse's skin seemed to burn where Eóin's hands had slipped beneath his belt.

“Take your trousers off”, Morse blurted out, before his lust-drunk brain could catch up to his mouth. “Please.”

Eóin looked at him, shocked at first, but that shock soon turned into wonder and then amusement. Soon, he was _ grinning _at Morse, which was altogether infuriating.

"Sure thing”, Eóin said. “But you'll have to get up and do the same first. I want to touch you properly.”

He was so _ direct _about it that Morse's mouth must've fallen open, because Eóin laughed softly and ran a hand through Morse's hair.

"Come on", Eóin said, hands sliding down his sides, skirting around his belt buckle once more. "If you don't do it soon, I'll have to take your belt off myself."

"What if I'd like you to?" Morse asked. Eóin simply answered by grabbing Morse by the belt loops with expert fingers and just doing away with the thing, opening it with a clink, pulling it off, and letting it fall to the floor. The buttons under it were next, and Morse realised he was probably going to explode out of sheer frustration if Eóin kept almost-palming him through his trousers with every possible excuse.

"Alright, alright, I'll do it", Morse said through deep breaths, gently swatting Eóin's hands away. Eóin raised them in helpless innocence, and Morse let out an amused scoff as he clambered off the man's lap.

Morse pulled his trousers down without too much hesitation. Even though the work they did was far less… physical than with many of the other corps, it was still the Army, and sometimes it was necessary to strip down in front of other men. He stopped after that, however, to stare at Eóin as the man slowly stood up and made swift work of opening his own belt.

"Sort of abhorrent, these uniforms", Eóin said. Morse shrugged. He wouldn't have known what else to wear, if he'd been given a choice, but he half-agreed.

He was here now, so maybe this was who he was. Private Morse. Someone who could eventually solve even the most mangled clues and make himself useful to others that way.

"But since they're all the same, you learn them in and out pretty quickly", Eóin said. "Useful when you need to help a fellow serviceman out."

"Out of his clothes?" Morse asked. Eóin _ winked at him_, pulling his trousers down and promptly stepping out of them. His briefs soon followed, and even though Morse tried his hardest not to avert his eyes like some blushing virgin, he still did so, glancing at the floor instead.

Eóin’s legs were toned, his skin not creamy pale but a bit tanned, curiously. Morse couldn't help but let his eyes wander up and down, trying his hardest not to feel inadequate, but Eóin probably noticed that.

"Useful for that, too, like you've probably noticed tonight", Eóin said softly, stepping back to get in the chair again. “Come here. Let me help.”

Morse hesitated, and it took Eóin reaching out his hand for him to finally step closer. It was suddenly very _ intimate_, the cool air on his skin doing nothing to soothe the way his skin burned.

Eóin put his hands on Morse’s hips, and the warm touch made Morse gasp. He wasn’t _ startled_, but he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate how gentle Eóin’s hands were after that, caressing him, thumb brushing over his hip before settling beneath his waistband.

“May I?” Eóin asked. Morse nodded, even though he shouldn’t have, even though it wasn’t in any way the proper thing to do. He wanted it too much not to, and since they had already gone so far, he would’ve hardly got any sleep that night if he didn’t find out how it was.

“Yes”, Morse whispered, trying to will away the way his cheeks were burning, with the tension and the embarrassment of it all. It didn’t work, and Eóin gave him a soft look as he slid his hands in Morse’s briefs, slowly pulling them down.

“You’re just a bit shy”, Eóin said, not taking Morse in his hand, but looking like he was considering that. Morse was glad he didn’t - his legs would’ve given out under him, and he didn’t want that. Eóin still laid his hands on the sides of his hips, rubbing slow circles against his hipbones, the touch sending an electric jolt down his spine.

“It’s alright. Part of the charm, you know, when I get a quiet bloke like you to open up a little”, Eóin said, a smile on his face as he looked up to Morse. “Feels good.”

“Right”, Morse gasped out, as he stepped out of his pants, and one of Eóin’s hands moved to grip his thigh again. Words like that did nothing to ease how awkward he felt about himself, but he did find that awkwardness shifting into an oddly pleasant direction. He wanted it.

“Should I just sit, or…?”

The rest of what Morse was trying his hardest to say dried up and died on his lips when his eyes met Eóin’s again. He let out a sigh, frustrated with himself, but couldn’t feel all too bad about it when he was coaxed nearer with a steady hand on his hip.

“Yeah”, Eóin said, leaning back in the chair. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold on to you.”

After one more deep breath, Morse took a step and carefully straddled Eóin’s thigh. He hissed at the contact, when he first felt warm bare skin with a trickle of coarse hair press against his aching cock, and Eóin was quick to wrap his arms around him and pull him close.

“It’s alright, love”, Eóin said, and as he leaned closer to put his lips on Morse’s neck, Morse realised there was a very insistent pressure pressing up against the bottom of his thigh. He was just sitting there, naked in another man’s lap, and he felt a thrill run through his heart at how terribly good it felt to be so close to someone again, after such a long while of nothing but his own hands. (And not even that, lately, since privacy in the barracks was scarce.)

“God”, Morse mumbled, and tilted his head to kiss Eóin properly. Eóin gave in with a sigh, hips driving up the slightest bit when Morse buried his hands in his hair again for leverage, and it made Morse’s breath stutter even as he dove in for another, deeper kiss right after.

There were strong thighs beneath him, a firm, warm body pressed up against his own, and Morse held on tight as Eóin finally pulled away from him, breathless and flushed. Morse couldn’t resist pressing a kiss on his sharp jaw, but he was quickly distracted by how Eóin slid his hand down Morse’s side and down between his legs and -

“_Jesus”_, Morse gasped out, as he felt skilful, sweaty fingers wrap around his cock. Eóin beckoned him closer with his free hand, and Morse obeyed, putting his head on Eóin’s shoulder so the man could whisper in his ear.

“There you go”, Eóin mumbled, his words followed by a long, torturously gentle stroke, one that sent Morse grinding down against Eóin’s thigh to get more of it, even though he couldn’t move properly enough to really get that sensation. Luckily, Eóin had mercy on him, cupping the head of his cock with just a little more pressure, making Morse close his eyes and draw in a long breath as he relaxed against Eóin’s chest, hands tightly gripping his back to keep himself anchored.

“I probably shouldn’t have thought you hadn’t been with anyone before”, Eóin said. “With how very beautiful you are, Morse. Could’ve had the girls and boys lining up to you from all over the colleges, if you were the kind of man to fancy that sort of thing.”

“How do you know I’m not?” Morse breathed out, a bit offended as he tried to face Eóin, but had to abandon the sharp stare when a particularly tantalising touch had his eyes rolling back in his head. When he opened them again, Eóin’s pace had slowed down, but there was a feverish look of longing in his eyes, his lips parted and his heartbeat fast. Morse made note of it, hand sliding down from Eóin’s shoulder to his chest to press his hand over his heart. Eóin gave him a sheepish smile.

“You’re a kind chap, Morse”, Eóin said. “You care.”

It was the sweetest accusation Morse had heard in a long while, and he just had to repay Eóin for it by kissing him so deep and fast that it took his own breath away, too.

His cheeks were burning when he came to again, and beneath the waves and layers of stinging warmth and pleasure that were taking over his body, he had a clear cause.

“Eóin”, Morse said, rolling his hips down. “I want to sit properly.”

“Your legs getting stiff? You should’ve said so, it’s alright, we can switch if you -” Eóin started, but Morse shut him up with a nip to his ear. Jesus Christ, he was getting bold, and he already knew he wasn’t going to regret it.

“_No_”, Morse said. “Make room.”

Eóin did, as well as he could, and Morse manoeuvred himself properly over him. It felt very indecent, to have his legs spread across Eóin’s lap and thighs, and Morse loved the face Eóin made when he looked up and saw the almost-smile Morse felt spreading across his face.

“I thought I should help a bunkmate out”, Morse explained, as he slid a hand down Eóin’s chest. Eóin drew in a breath, let it out in a huff, and laughed at him as quietly as he could manage. Night fell on them as a cover, but the film between them and the sleeping world outside the room was very thin.

“I think the word you’re looking for is chairmate, presently”, Eóin said, making Morse both grin and cringe at the same time. Life at base was very focused on their work in other regards, so why not now as well - Morse had etymologies and encryption seep their way into his dreams every other night.

“But please do”, Eóin added, the words rushed. “Jesus, Morse. I don’t want this to stop.”

Morse leaned in, lips almost but not quite touching Eóin’s, and took them both in his hand. He felt the sharp gasp Eóin let out against his lips, his breath warm, and before Morse had the chance to go in for a kiss, he found himself being kissed. First it was a peck on his bottom lip, and after that a proper, albeit misguided, kiss, landing on the corner of his mouth. He moved his hand, pressing their lengths together, and Eóin took the opportunity to slide a hand down Morse’s back to grab his waist firmly, his other hand steering Morse close by the back of his neck.

They soon found a comfortable rhythm, with Eóin holding Morse close and telling him what a wonderful chap he was, for having such skilled hands and beautiful eyes and a face to spend hours looking at. Morse was pretty sure he wouldn’t remember everything in the morning - his head was spinning, his mind steamed over, and it was hard to think of anything except the glide and rub of Eóin’s prick against his own. He didn’t want it to end, but he was skirting on the edge, and it was only a matter of time before he’d be totally gone.

“Eóin”, Morse rasped out, when he was sure he couldn’t smooth away the pressure that was building deep inside him. “I’m going to -”

“By all means”, Eóin said, and the smile on his face was so frustratingly _ sweet _ that Morse dove in to kiss him with more force than he’d been able to muster up in a long while. Eóin still managed to sneak a hand down between their stomachs and wrap it around Morse’s where he was still stroking them, and the sheer torrid mundaneness of the act - Eóin wanted to _ hold his hand _ \- was enough to get Morse off, leaving him panting against Eóin’s shoulder.

He didn’t manage to catch much of a break, however, because Eóin was still tense, subtly trying to get Morse to touch him again, hand gentle but insistent around his wrist. Morse actually laughed at that.

“Woe is you”, Morse whispered in Eóin’s ear, eyes closed as he kissed the man on the cheek again, but still obliged and took hold of his cock again. Eóin hugged him tight, making all sorts of delightful small noises, and it took Morse a second to realise some of it was actual speech.

“Morse”, Eóin said, voice rough and dry. “Look at me. Please.”

Morse opened his eyes, thumbing the head of Eóin’s cock as he turned his head to search for the man’s gaze in the darkness, and after they’d locked eyes for a moment, Eóin finished on Morse’s stomach with a cry.  
  


They sat there, clinging to each other not to fall off the chair, even though the sweaty air around them was slowly getting unbearable, before Eóin finally spoke.

“Morse”, Eóin said. “We need to find tissues.”

Morse simply hummed softly, trying to find the energy in his limbs to push himself up. He didn’t find any.

“Morse, I’m serious”, Eóin said, even though his voice was still gentle, and brushed a strand of hair away from Morse’s forehead. “We don’t want another mysterious wanker scandal in our hands.”

Morse realised he was pretty sleepy, because it took him a second to catch up to what Eóin had just said.

“... you had a _ mysterious wanker scandal _in here?” he asked in disbelief. Eóin let out a long-suffering sigh.

“A couple months before you came here. You don’t want to know the details”, Eóin said. “But I can assure you I wasn’t involved.”

“So that’s what one of the clues last week was about”, Morse said. “_Lacks grace but beats Radio Block_. For a prostitute.”

“Yeah”, Eóin said. “Too simple and stupid to solve with a brain. That’s why you couldn’t figure it out.”

Morse frowned, but wasn’t entirely serious with it. When Eóin gave him one last kiss before pushing him up and off his lap, he couldn’t help but smile a little.

There was a box of tissues - actually, several - on top of a dusty shelf, and Morse was pretty sure they’d been placed there just because the Signals men were afraid of the Mysterious Incident repeating itself. All the better for preventing it from happening, as Morse and Lusk made quick work of cleaning themselves up and dressing again before turning all the lights on and making sure the room was cleaner than it had been before they got there.

They were done with it long before Hopkins and Kellogg came in to relieve them of their shift. As they didn’t encounter anyone while walking across the field and the courtyard back to the barracks, they got the chance to hold hands for most of the way. It was nice enough, to pretend for one night.

/ / /

The next morning (and with it, the daily experience of being woken up by their sergeant) was upon them early, worn and wordless, but not uncomfortably so. It was very unfortunate for the rest of the crossword puzzle, and Morse kept having trouble not looking at Lusk’s funny smile and oddly vibrant hands until late in the afternoon.

He did get some of his usual edge back when he forced himself to work on an actually important message for a couple of hours without taking a break, but that didn’t help in the slightest with how tired he was. However, Morse did like the fond, friendly treatment Lusk gave him when they worked together in the evening.

(Morse did also get a kiss from Eóin behind a deserted staircase a week later, and several weeks of warm friendship after that. That was a definite perk as well.

  
It didn’t really make him feel better when Eóin was awarded a transfer to another base only a month later. A sharp bloke _ and _a good leader, they said, so it was only natural for him to move forwards in his career. Morse insisted his ongoing heartbreak was at fault for the wistful looks he threw out the window on the day as the future Corporal Lusk packed up and left Colchester for the north.)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from during these two days I spent writing it, but it ended up being very, very sweet. I just want Morse's backstory to sometimes be happy for a change, and to be honest, the British army is a pretty gay place to be. (Especially the Signal Corps... ever heard of a chap called Alan Turing?)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments are very much appreciated <3


End file.
